


Rough and Tumble

by HollyDB



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Fix-it, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Halloween, Romance, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-13 10:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyDB/pseuds/HollyDB
Summary: It’s Halloween, and Buffy is tired of lying to herself, especially in a world that has already killed her twice. She takes Spike up on his offer for patrol...and other things.Originally written in 2005 (best guess); revised in 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in a kinder, gentler Season 6. I like to think it's what would have happened had Spike been a bit wiser and Buffy a little more attuned to the mindset she died with.

It was a bad idea.

Very bad.

Though, to give herself credit, since she’d rejoined the land of the living, the clause of _very bad_ seemed to follow her wherever she went. And usually, Buffy ended up near the vampire in question. The vampire that was staring at her with those moon eyes that made her weak in the knees—weaker than she’d ever admitted to herself.

Well, in the before time, actually. Before the unfortunate dying incident, acknowledging Spike’s moon eyes or his kissable lips or his endless devotion was really not on the up of things that a good vampire slayer was supposed to consider.

The rules had very much changed since Willow had decided to rearrange the odds and ends of life and death. The look in Spike’s eyes was welcome. It made her feel loved, cherished, whereas the others looked at her as though she was something to be fixed. A thing they’d found at the bottom of a junk pile only to realize it was broken.

She’d gone to see Angel, hoping for more of the same that Spike was giving her now. What he gave in a glance. Instead, Angel had also been guarded. Glad to see her, yes, but on edge. There wasn’t a manual on this sort of thing, but she’d thought that some things should come easy. Talking to the great love of her life about her trauma—on the easy list. She’d thought she’d at least tell him about Heaven but she hadn’t. Trying to verbalize why she wasn’t ecstatic to be back, why she flinched whenever someone said her name, just seemed exhausting and what was the point, anyway? All that was left was emptiness where warmth had once been, and it seemed the only person—or non-person—capable of filling that void these days was Spike.

Spike had become her best friend. How strange was that?

Thus far, he’d given no indication that he expected anything from her in return. He hadn’t come onto her, or told her he loved her, or made like he wanted to chain her up in his crypt. He’d simply been there. He’d shared booze, let her cry on his shoulder, told her that it was okay if she wasn’t okay, and offered to take out the Scoobies more than a few times.

Spike let her be herself, no strings. She loved that.

She found she loved many things about him. Strange how death could do that—open her eyes to things that had once seemed so taboo and made her realize exactly what she needed.

Maybe the visit to Angel had helped too. It was hard not making comparisons between the two vampires in her life. The fact that Mr. Soulful had only succeeded in making her feel more alone where Mr. Evil made her feel _anything _else had been kind of an eye-opener.

Still, Buffy wasn’t about to press. She refused. She didn’t want to take advantage of the friendship he offered. She also didn’t want to chance that his love for her had matured into a softer affection. She didn’t want things to get weird between them. If she made a wrong move, it could cost her the one sanctuary she trusted, and life would become truly unbearable.

Buffy knew her people-reading skills sucked. Dying hadn’t helped much in that department.

Especially with vampires that loved her.

Spike was an enigma. She’d never have him figured out.

Except for the fact that he tended to leap out of dark places just when she needed him the most.

“Bell. Neck. Look into it,” she said, biting back a grin. It was nice to see him, if only to escape the insanity upstairs. Anya and Xander’s sex life was really nothing she wanted a crash course on.

Spike smiled a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come with a nice leather collar, does it?”

“What are you doing lurking down here?”

He held her eyes for a minute, then shifted guiltily and released a deep sigh. “Came through the tunnels.” He revealed a handful of vines. “Runnin’ low on burba weed. Stir it in with the blood. Makes it all hot and spicy.”

Buffy frowned and turned, placing aside the box Anya had handed her.

“What?” Spike retorted defensively. “I was gonna pay for it.”

The petulant ring in his voice brought the grin she’d tried to conceal out of hiding, and she favored him with a long look.

Unfortunately, the stubborn vampire didn’t take her silence as good-natured affection. He rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh, shaking his head as though disappointed by his own shortcomings. “I mean, no. I was gonna nick it, ‘cause that’s what I do. I go where I please and I take what I want and what’s your excuse, anyway?” He nodded to the ceiling, where Anya’s Halloween party raged on. “I thought you’d had it to the brim with customer service.”

Buffy’s eyes went wide. Guh. Was that ever the understatement. Her customer service days were so of the past. “One-time deal to help out. And I mean straight time. No loop-de-loop mummy hand repeat-o-vision.”

Spike nodded, and he looked so understanding that she wanted to forget all else and curl up in his arms. He was the only one that got her. The only one. The others looked at her like she would break if the wind blew too hard. Not Spike. Spike looked at her like she was a gift. As though every prayer he’d ever whispered against his being had been answered, and she was there to provide his life with light.

Her friends didn’t understand, and she didn’t expect them to. They just smiled and nodded and talked about how strange she was when she wasn’t in the room. How she wasn’t grateful for the sacrifices they’d made in raising her.

Willow and Tara were living in her house and somehow she was supposed to be the provider of the family. How had they managed in the however-many days during her death? Where was that support now?

She hated retail. She hated being that girl. She hated everything about her life, except the way she felt when she was regarded as something other than a commodity.

She hated feeling useless. And right now, this moment, she was truly useless.

Which reminded her, she was supposed to be doing something. Not that she knew what, exactly, but Anya had sent her downstairs with a purpose. Buffy licked her lips and looked around, embarrassed. “Where’s the mandrake root?”

Spike turned toward a shelf covered with jars. Of course. The big armoire of science projects. She should’ve known.

“Ummm, here,” he said, selecting a container. “Only three to a container.” He handed it to her. “Tends to…go a bit wonky if you cram them too close together.”

This has been sufficiently awkward, she thought, smiling her gratitude. “Thanks.” He was giving her that wounded-puppy look again, as though conversing with her was like stepping on shards of glass.

She hated this. She hated it being awkward with him. He was the balance of her miserable life. He was the reason she had maintained even an air of sanity in her post-life as a fallen angel.

_Please get me out of here. _

“Feel like a bit of the rough and tumble?” he blurted.

Oh god, that sounded too good to be true. “What?” she retorted, so taken aback she thought she’d heard wrong.

“Me…you…”

She just stared. She couldn’t help herself.

“Patrolling? Hello?”

“Oh,” she answered, flushing as she tore her eyes away. _Oh._ Still, patrolling with Spike was way above pretending to be happy upstairs, only not so much with the pretend. Call her selfish, but she didn’t owe her friends anything. “Uh…I should…I should stay.”

Spike nodded quickly, going in for damage control. “Right. Wasn’t thinking. It's not like I don't already have plans. _Great Pumpkin's_ on in twenty.”

“No, I mean, I _should_ stay. Really should… But _please_, get me out of here.”

He blinked. “Really? You wanna…?”

“God, yes.”

Spike blinked again, then a large, genuine smile spread across his lips. “Right! Ummm, do y’wanna take the mandrake upstairs, and meet me around front? Don’t suppose the Scoobies’ll like me crashing their party. And…” He held up his purloined burba weed. “Anya swore she’d send a Kraelek demon after me the next time she caught me robbin’ the place.”

“She actually caught you?”

He shrugged. “I was drunk. Not my finest hour.”

Buffy frowned. “Drunk?” Her drinking binge with Spike a couple nights before had increased her admiration for his endurance when it came to alcohol. If he was drunk—something she’d only truly seen once—he must have drunk down the whole town.

“Yeah…little while ago.” He shuffled uncomfortably, and she knew.

It was a strange feeling, this wanting to console Spike over her own death.

“Come with me upstairs,” she said. “If Anya makes a big deal over it, I’ll pay for the weed.”

He smirked and shook his head. “Don’t think so, pet.”

“Well, honestly—”

“Either I pinch it or I fork over the cash.”

“This is some macho thing that keeps me from paying for your weed.”

“Burba weed, and yes. ‘Sides, aren’t you super-hero do-gooder types supposed to discourage petty theft?”

She shrugged. “It’s you. It’s Anya. I am choosing at this moment to care less about that than I do about other things. Come on, let’s go.”

“Buffy…” He seized her wrist and pulled her back just slightly, his eyes widening the next second as though he was astonished by his own brazenness. “If we leave together, your mates are gonna think something’s up.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, drawing the word out to feign ignorance. “And?”

“You—”

“I’m leaving with you for a reason. I’ll probably do other things with you at some point, and since when do I need a written permission slip from my pals when I wanna go hang with you?”

He frowned, unconvinced. “You’re sure? The Scoobies—”

“I’m sure.” As if to punctuate her statement, she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him up the stairs.

She didn’t know quite what she expected as she threw open the basement door and stepped into the party with Spike at her side. The music didn’t stop. The movement didn’t cease. There was no collective gasp followed by an entourage of annoying questions. Rather, it seemed that no one noticed them at all. The store was too crowded with eager kids begging for candy, so no one hit the VAMPIRE SLAYER DATING VAMPIRE warning button.

Granted, she and Spike weren’t dating. She was just holding his hand, even though she didn’t need to, and had accepted his proposal for a night to themselves doing something they mutually enjoyed.

Nah. In what bizarre-o world was that considered dating?

And even so, she was thoroughly beyond caring. If Spike was what she wanted, what she needed, who was she to deny herself? Especially when the world that she was supposed to defend had gone out of its way to make sure she always got the fuzzy end of the lollipop. The vampire at her side had sacrificed more for her than anyone else ever had. She knew that now. She could see it. And dammit, she was so tired of denying herself what she wanted just because of what others might think.

The good opinion of people who had hijacked her from Heaven was strangely not on her must-have list. So Spike was with her, by her side, because that was what she wanted. He loved her, albeit perhaps not in the way he had just a few months ago, but he cared for her to the point that he looked at her as though she was a bonafide miracle, even knowing how broken she was.

There were times now that she wondered if she was even capable of love anymore. She knew she loved Dawn but didn’t feel it—knew she’d loved others, but couldn’t touch it. The only person who made her feel anything was the vamp at her side and she wanted to pursue it. She wanted to try, because what else was there in this harsh world she’d been forced back into?

There were things she definitely didn’t want, though. She didn’t want the mess she’d experienced with Angel—not because it was sacred, rather because it was sloppy and chaotic and perhaps, overall, the unhealthiest thing that had ever happened to her. Her relationship with Angel had been a learning experience, yes, but she’d spent far too much time idolizing him when he was, if anything, just a vampire with a man’s conscience. His warm wishes for her had sent her running first to Parker, then to Riley, and neither of those winners had really marked her chart as prime examples of the male sex in the human column.

Spike was a vampire, but he was a man, too. And he was upfront about his monstrosity, unlike every other man in her life. Angel had tried to pretend he was so above everything because of what he’d been through, but he was no different from the rest. He’d given her some crap about wanting a normal life, and then he’d gone off and was messing up the lives of Cordelia and Wesley by being a vampire amidst the human race. His words of wisdom had long since run bitter. Seeing him recently had only confirmed that.

She didn’t want the love she’d had with Angel. That was something every teenager was supposed to experience, and she had. Yes, yes, she had. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She was a woman. She was someone far-placed from the person she’d been in high school. Angel wasn’t what she wanted. She was almost surprised he’d ever been in the running.

She’d seen both sides of light and dark now. She knew where the demons lived.

She wanted Spike. She, Buffy, wanted Spike.

“Here’s the mandrake,” Buffy told Anya, who had skated over the minute she’d spied them. “Spike and I are leaving.”

The vampire tossed her a confused though quietly proud look.

“Good,” Anya retorted, waving dismissively. “Your melancholy state was bringing down the spirit of seasonal spending. You should have Spike work out your tension with mutually beneficial orgasms.” She beamed as though she’d just solved world peace. “I have customers waiting to give me money. Off with you!”

The words _Spike_ and _orgasms_ had appeared together in the same sentence, only a breath apart. Buffy dazed a bit. Spike looked embarrassed, though still quite pleased.

“Come on, pet,” he said gently, squeezing her hand. She blinked and looked down, realizing that her fingers were still clasped around his, and her heart skipped. God, that felt so normal. “Let’s be off.”

Best idea she’d ever heard, by far. Buffy smiled a bit and nodded her agreement. “Lemme tell Giles that I’m leaving,” she said, “so he makes sure that Dawn gets home.”

“The witches’ll take care of the Bit,” Spike observed.

The underlying message was: _don’t go, he’ll talk you out of it. _

“I’d just feel better…you know, sisterly thing. Just gimme a sec, okay?” She favored him with a smile, then released his hand and navigated through the swarm of people that had flocked to the wrap desk in the past ten minutes.

When she’d last seen him, Giles had been accompanied by Pirate Xander. Now, he looked to be rushing to get customers’ purchases into bags while simultaneously manning the register.

_Damn, damn, double damn. _

“What happened to Xander?”

“He kept poking me with his hook,” Giles explained, bagging the items splayed across the counter. “I sent him over to charmed objects. With any luck, he'll poke the wrong one and end up in an alternative dimension inhabited by a fifty-foot Giles that squishes annoying teeny pirates.” He flashed her a grateful look. “We have a ton of bagging to do here.”

“Ummm, no deal. I’m going out with Spike.”

His eyes widened comically at that. “You’re what?”

She arched an eyebrow, shrugging. “Going out with Spike to do what we do best.”

Giles was staring at her in horror.

“Patrolling? Hello?”

From across the room, she caught Spike’s gaze. He was grinning to himself. It was nice. She enjoyed the familiar gleam in his eyes. That adoring way he looked at her when he knew she was too far away or too preoccupied to care.

Well, at least in the days of old. She hadn’t forgotten Anya’s suggestion for orgasms.

“Oh. Right, of course.” Giles expelled a deep breath, shaking his head. “Buffy, you've been patrolling every night this week.” He took an item from a customer and began ringing it up. “Besides, it's Halloween; it's the one time of the year that supernatural threats give it a well-deserved rest. As should you.”

Damn Watcher countering her with logic, as disproved as it had been over the years.

“Yeah, what about costumes that take over your personality? Or wee little Irish fear-demon-y thingies?”

“Yes, well, if anything calamitous should happen, history suggests it'll happen to one of us.” Giles paused. “I don’t think it’s…healthy…that you’re spending so much time with Spike. You know how he feels about you.”

“I’ll go get Dawn to help you bag.”

“Buffy, are you even—”

“Listening? Yes. Caring? Not so much. Just make sure Dawnie gets home all right, all right? I don’t know how long I’ll be out.” She was off again before he could protest, and pretended not to hear the backlash of angry reprimands she received for abandoning him during a rush.

Spike was back to looking unsure of himself when she approached.

“You ready?” she asked.

“You sure you wanna go with me? I’d understand it if—”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, let’s go.” She grabbed his hand again, reveling in the peace that rolled through his skin and caressed hers. “I’ll tell Dawn we’re leaving and that it’d be in her best interest to stay if she wants money to hang with Janice this weekend.”

Spike smiled. “All right.”

Buffy released a deep breath and squeezed his hand. There was something so fundamental about that connection. About the way he consoled her without words. The way he made everything all right with a look; how he eased the worries always lurking beneath the surface.

She wouldn’t give it up for anything. This thing they had—this wondrous undefined thing that used to be the bane of her existence—gave her such peace.

Perhaps she could love him.

Either way, he was getting her out of this godforsaken place. He was rescuing her again. He played the part of her savior without even knowing it.

She’d have to tell him. Have to let him know what it meant to her. How it kept her from falling apart.

Perhaps tonight was just the boost she needed.


	2. Chapter 2

There was tension between her and Spike that hadn’t previously existed. She didn’t remember being so nervous when alone with him before, save that one time that she had gone patrolling with him after Dawn had revealed how he felt about her.

Spike was always around when she was miserable; she’d told him as much in her oh so ineloquent way of attempting to let him know how much she appreciated the comfort he had to offer. It was the reason she’d gone to him the first night after her resurrection, and practically every night thereafter. She’d gone drinking with him on their not-a-date, watched as he’d defended her honor in front of slimy semi-baddies, turned a blind eye at the kitten poker while battling the acknowledgment of what he had become to her.

There was a reason she kept running to him.

Buffy released a deep breath and kicked at the ground. “Tonight sucks,” she complained.

Spike stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I could…you wanna go back?”

“What? No. No! I didn’t mean…” Bah. That lousy tendency of speaking before she thought had obviously climbed out of the grave with her. “I didn’t mean…you. No, you’re the part of tonight that is very much not with the suckage.”

Spike didn’t say anything at that, though his lips curled into a half-pleased, half-crude grin.

“It’s more the entire thing,” she went on. “The friends and the Watcher and the bills and Dawn’s schoolwork, which makes mine look like a Valedictorian’s.”

“Then it must be bloody tragic.”

“Watch it, funny guy.”

He merely grinned and shook his head. “Why don’t you ask the lover witches to pitch in, pet?” he asked. “Charge them rent or what all. Last I checked, it was your house.”

“I was thinking the same thing earlier. I’m essentially a B&B owner who keeps getting stiffed.”

“So what? Make ‘em pay. It’s the least they can do after…”

The air between them grew awkward and silent again.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, nodding. “It is. But hey, it’s not like they know about that.”

“That makes it all right?”

“No, it just gives them that much leeway. I think knowing that they thought they were doing the right thing has been the only thing to keep me from completely going bonkers.” She paused. “Well, that and you.”

Spike stopped walking. “What?”

She turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “What? You thought I hadn’t noticed?”

“I just…no…” He shifted his weight between his legs, gaze on the ground. “I guess I never thought you’d actually admit it.”

Buffy winced but shrugged. “Okay, yes, I deserve that.”

“What?” He paused, then frowned and sighed. “Bloody hell, Slayer, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, no. I know that. Stop. Look…” She held up a hand. “I want us to be normal, okay? Not the way we used to be but…me girl, you boy. No slayers, no vampires. Come on. Please? I don’t wanna worry with this tonight. Well, scratch that. Ever. I’m so tired of worrying with it.”

Spike’s eyes went wide and he looked away. “Buffy…are you saying…” A sigh rolled off his shoulders, and when his gaze found hers again, he looked resigned. “I’m bloody exhausted with tryin’ to keep up with you, pet. Talkin’ to you is like navigatin’ a minefield. It’s a rush, yeah, but a game of chicken with death nonetheless. I’m here ‘cause I love being with you, but I’m sodding terrified that I’ll say somethin’ that mucks this up, or read too much into something you say and…”

Buffy wet her lips. “What do you want, Spike?”

“You know what I want.”

The words had warmth blooming through her body. Yes, she knew. At that moment, that instant, all doubt was cast aside. The only thing she had to overcome was her fear—the same that really had no backing. She had absolutely no reason to fear confessing what she felt to him. He wouldn’t reject her. He wouldn’t turn her away. If anything, he would take her in his arms and never let go.

She supposed she was afraid of it because of what it meant—not from the stance of being a slayer involved with a soulless vampire, rather for the knowledge of how it would change everything. Like pre-wedding jitters to the ninth degree.

Buffy released a deep breath. She knew that it would be forever with Spike. Once she made that leap, there was no going back. He would love and worship her until the world ended.

She was just afraid, despite how much she wanted it.

“It’s okay,” she said instead, frowning at her cowardice. Chicken. “I know this… I’m not like I was before. I think you know that.”

His shoulders fell. “I know, love,” he said. “I just don’t… I know this is all I’m gonna get. I know it. I’m not completely daft, right? I just… With as close as you let me get, I’m bloody terrified that I’m gonna bugger it all up. Or I’ll wake up and I’ll be in a world where you hate me and the only time I see you is when you wanna go a round of Kick The Spike. Or worse, I’ll wake up and…” He caught himself just in time, his eyes distancing, and the unspoken _you’re still gone_ rang heavily between them.

Buffy smiled and stepped forward. “I’m not going anywhere, Spike.”

And it was because of him that she was really okay with that.

“I know,” he replied. His tone was final. His eyes told a different story.

“And I’m not playing the ‘me slayer, you vampire’ game anymore.”

Spike cocked his head and studied her. “Whass’at mean, then?”

She thought about it for a minute, then met his eyes and shrugged. “It means what it means,” she replied, extending a hand. “Come on. Let’s patrol.”

A flicker of euphoria flashed across Spike’s eyes as their fingers entwined, and the jolt of electricity that sparked at his touch wasn’t lost on her.

It took something like dying to bring her this far. In a cemetery with Spike, whom she hadn’t even admitted she was attracted to until the very end of her first life. Her true first life—she didn’t consider the few seconds that the Master had rendered her technically dead counted for anything.

Her second life could possibly be a blessing in the guise of a curse. She didn’t know. She wasn’t all right yet, but when she was with Spike, she felt normal.

The graveyard was appropriately empty, beyond it being rather foggy in a typical Halloweenish fashion. Buffy sighed and worried her lip between her teeth, her mind rolling back to the years when this had been her favorite holiday. That had to have been telling, right? She remembered playing tag with her childhood neighbors, only her methods of tagging had always been closer to slaying. Even a few years ago, she’d been one with the spirit of October.

Her friends had a certain knack for sucking the joy right out of her.

“I wonder if demons had a big constitutional convention and decided that Halloween was going to be their day off just to be funny unless they prowled a slayer-guarded hellmouth,” she mused.

Spike snorted. “A demonic constitutional convention?”

“A meeting of malice,” she agreed with a nod. “101 Ways To Screw With Slayers.”

He flashed a grin. “Too bad I didn’t take that course.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t teach it.”

“You think if I had all the answers on the ins and outs of slayers, I’d’ve waited this long to make my move?”

“You haven’t waited this long. Moves have been made…and shot down, but made nonetheless.”

“You’re hell on a man’s ego, pet.”

She shrugged. “I’m just special like that.”

Spike’s smile softened a bit and he nodded, releasing her hand. There was that look on his face again. That look that he wore every time he felt he needed to caution himself against getting too close for fear of getting burned. He drew in a breath of air and tossed a glance to the stars. “Have you decided what field to tackle next in the unendin’ search for employment?”

“Well, let’s see. I need something away from customer service, or people of any sort.” She frowned. “Maybe I should open a home business.”

He snickered. “And sell what? Slayer protection from residential demons?”

“Sorry. Anya beat you to that idea.”

Spike chuckled at that. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Though honestly, I expected you to arrive at that conclusion eons ago.”

“I’m not gonna charge people to save their lives, Spike.”

“Why not?”

A frown tugged at her lips. “It’s wrong.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t stop your honey, right? Isn’t that his bloody business? Solvin’ people’s problems for a pretty penny? Helping the sodding helpless as long as they have funds in the bank?”

Buffy scowled. “He’s not my honey,” she shot back. “And if that’s his prerogative, so be it. It’s not mine.”

Spike’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s this?”

“I just don’t understand him anymore, and I really don’t care to.” She crossed her arms, feeling at once self-conscious. “I went to see him…recently.”

A very still beat settled between them. And just for a second, she felt like a woman admitting to her lover about an illicit affair. Gross. Dirty. She wanted to apologize. Wanted to tell him, in all honesty, that it hadn’t meant anything. That the entire encounter had only reaffirmed what she’d suspected ever since she’d gotten back. That Angel wasn’t what she wanted. That she wouldn’t trade being with Spike right now for a thousand years with Angel. That her feelings for her first great love had died to softer affection. That he’d been one guy she knew in high school who taught her the elementary aspects of love. That the teenager she’d been had finally grown up. Or maybe she’d died and that part hadn’t been resurrected.

“I know,” Spike said softly. “I came over to see you…make sure all was… And the Bit told me you’d gone.”

Buffy wet her lips. “Yeah,” she replied lamely. “It came up suddenly. Cordy called to talk to Willow and…well, everything went kinda crazy.”

He nodded. “How was it?”

The question was polite and almost forced. The look on his face read for how very much he didn’t want to hear about her time with Angel. How pained he was at the thought of what might have happened between them.

Well, it was time to dispel that theory.

“Terrible,” she replied.

Spike paused, worked his throat. “Terrible?”

“Absolutely terrible.” Buffy shook her head. “We didn’t know how to act around each other. He was…diplomatic. Decided to relate to me by telling me how he felt when he had to crawl out of his grave. Asked me how the family was. Looked at his watch every fifteen minutes. Really, he had more restraint than I did. At one point, I think I started a mental inventory of all the stuff he has to put in his hair to keep it up like that.”

He smirked. “Stupid sod. Had you there all to himself—”

“It wasn’t like that. I went because I thought I had to.”

“Had to?”

She shrugged. “It was Angel. It was me and Angel, and the massive saga of the thing we used to have. Like I was fulfilling a duty to the writers of our soap-opera, or finally giving that annoying teenager that I once was a reason to let go of this idealized version of the perfect man he once modeled for me. But I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know when I stopped being that person, but it was before I died. I think he just wanted to go back to Cordelia.”

“Peaches and the Prom Queen?”

“Well, he didn’t come right out and say it, but there’s something there. He might not even know it yet.” Buffy exhaled and tossed her head back, fixing her eyes on the stars. “I regretted going the minute I got there.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t with me.”

Spike stopped walking again and stared at her in awe. “What?”

She smiled and turned. “Look, I know I’m insane with the mixed signals, especially of late, but I’m not blind. I know what you’ve done for me. And I know that I feel…like myself when I’m with you. Angel’s not that for me anymore. He hasn’t been for a while…I don’t know when it changed, but it changed. I was too stupid to see it.”

“Buffy…”

“I just…you’ve been the only one I can rely on since…” She gestured inarticulately. “And I don’t mean for that to mean… Well, it’s not the reason I’m with you right now. Well, yeah, it’s one of the reasons, but it’s not the end-all-be-all of reason-dom.”

When she summoned the guts to look at Spike, she found him regarding her with a soft, sweet smile. “You’re not makin’ any sense, pet.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Buffy held his gaze held for a minute longer before she broke away. “You think there are no oogly booglies out tonight because I decided to be proactive and patrol?”

She was being a coward again, and they both knew it. However, when she looked back at him, she found something in Spike’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. Some distant strand of hope that he was reading her the way she wanted to be read. That he could tell what her message was even if he had to interpret the gray area that lived between the lines. He didn’t call her on it, though. Didn’t drag her insecurity out and demand she make sense of her cold feet. Instead, he shrugged and went with the flow, and she was grateful that he did.

“Supposed to be a demon holiday,” he replied, grabbing her hand and continuing on the worn path through the cemetery.

She would never tire of the feel of his flesh against hers. “Yeah, and you’ve been living on the Hellmouth how long?”

“I just figure the locals don’t know the rules.”

“And you’re such a rule-follower, huh?”

“’Course not, love. That’d be borin’.” He grinned. “Speakin’ of kettles and pots…”

“I do suppose it’s detrimental to my title to hang with vamps, huh?” She shook her head. “I’ve never been much for rules.”

Spike held up a hand. “Woman after my own heart,” he replied, withdrawing a pack of smokes and plucking one between his lips.

“Lousy vamps,” she said, kicking at the grass.

“Oi. That smarts.”

“Not you. The lack of like-minded rebels that are supposed to be giving me a hard time tonight.”

“Aww, poor Slayer.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you have the argumentative skills of a three-year-old?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re sexy as hell when you’re reprimandin’ me?” Spike winked and took a puff of his cigarette, his eyes sparkling as her cheeks went hot. “What’s this? Are you blushin’?”

She glanced down, overwhelmed with a girlish sense of modesty that was completely foreign to her. “No.”

“You’re blushing!”

“Am not.”

“’Cause I called you sexy?” His eyes danced. “Fuck, you’re adorable when you let yourself go.”

“I’m gonna be doing that a lot more around you, so be prepared.”

“Like a good boy scout.”

“You can’t be good at anything. Vampire, remember?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I remember well enough,” he retorted and ran his tongue over his teeth with a wicked and oh so welcome burn of lust in his gaze. “And I wouldn’t say I’m not good at anythin’, Slayer. There are a couple of areas that I…excel in.”

“Pig.”

“Oh, witty retort.”

“Well, at least I got you out of the minefield.” She smiled and drew in a deep breath. “Is it ironic or perverted that I feel more alive in a graveyard than I do with my friends?”

Spike quieted and took a drag of his cigarette. “I’d say it’s just tellin’. This is where you wanna be, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s funny. You spend so much time fearing death. Hell, I’ve gone through it twice now…though really, the first time only counted to the PTB because I didn’t even have time to see the white light before I was back in the land of the living. And yeah, with slayers, death is pretty much on the warning label. Gonna be ugly, gonna be painful, gonna happen fast, no time to enjoy life ‘cause you’re saving it for others. But I’ve already done that, and I know what’s waiting for me on the other side.”

Spike just nodded.

“How is it that I can still fear death, even after all that?”

He shrugged. “You’re still human, love,” he said. “Fuck, I’ve experienced death, too. Doesn’t mean I’m particularly lookin’ forward to meeting the stake that has my name on it.”

“If I had that much of a death wish, I would’ve just killed myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve. Many bloody things, Slayer, but you don’t call it quits like that.”

“How do you know?”

“I know. I know you. I know you bloody well if I don’t say so myself. You’re many things, but one thing you’ve never been is a quitter. Or a coward.”

“You are so wrong. I wanna be both. All the time.”

“Do you?”

Buffy nodded. “I’m terrified. God, Spike, I’m terrified of everything. Of how to pay for food and electricity this month. Of how to ask Willow and Tara for money without feeling like a criminal, even though I know I’m entitled to it. How to do my job when I know the outcome. How to walk through these cemeteries every night and pass my headstone and be expected to just take it with a smile and a nod. I’m scared of Dawn. Her grades are falling and she won’t listen to me when I tell her that she’s gonna be taken away if she doesn’t improve. If she doesn’t stop skipping school…or hanging out with the kids she hangs out with. Janice? She got suspended last week for smoking pot on school grounds. Dawn doesn’t listen to me! What kind of role model am I for her? ‘Do well in school because you don’t wanna be like me?’”

“Dawn worships you.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand that it could all end with one bad visit from social services. And everyone keeps looking at me and smiling and asking me if I’m okay and expecting me to be honest with them but at the same time, not wanting to know the truth.” A pause. All or nothing now. “And there’s you. I’m scared to death of you.”

His eyes went wide and they stopped walking again. “Buffy?”

“I…” She broke off, tearing her gaze away from his. “You scare me. What I’m feeling… Everything that’s changed. It all scares me. And I want it but I keep running from it. Because that’s what I do. I can slay monsters and stop hellgods from destroying the world, but when it comes to heart-stuff, I’m no good. I’m just no good at this anymore. I used to be good at it. Then again, I used to be sixteen and I thought I was immortal.”

He was looking at her in that special, awed way she’d come to consider just hers. “Buffy…are you…”

“I don’t know what I am,” she replied, crossing her arms, still not looking at him.

_Coward_.

Spike took a step forward, cupping her cheek. “Look at me.”

“Spike—”

“Look at me.” She did. His eyes were crystal blue, and he burned her with the power behind his gaze. “You’ve gone through somethin’ none of these wankers, myself included, can even begin to imagine. It wasn’t hell, love. They tore you out of a place where there are no tears. The fact that you haven’t fallen apart completely astounds me. You’re an amazing woman, Buffy. You’ve already made the ultimate sacrifice once. You’ve given more to this miserable world than they can bloody conceive. And anyone who expects more from you is out of their mind.”

Dammit, she’d promised herself tonight wasn’t going to be a night for crying. Tonight was supposed to be happy. Tonight was supposed to be her liberation. So how was it that she felt familiar tears stinging her eyes as her body begged her to collapse against him? How was it that he was the only one who got it?

_He loves me._

She knew that, but her friends loved her, too. With as much as they had mucked up her existence, they loved her. And somewhere, they had her best interest at heart. They’d done what they’d done out of love. But they hadn’t rescued her—they’d punished her. And then they expected her to smile and be okay with it. As though she had any choice. How could she burden them with the knowledge of their crime? What would that accomplish?

Spike knew her secrets—he was the one she’d run to ever since crawling from the grave. And even if she hadn’t mentioned Heaven, she knew that he would be there still. Understanding even if she didn’t tell him. Offering his shoulder, his company, his everything if it would make everything better.

Buffy released a trembling sigh when she felt his lips brush against her forehead. He lingered there for a moment, then pulled back.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked softly. “I haven’t said it since… But you know I love you.”

She smiled a watery smile and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“I didn’t wanna pressure you. Didn’t wanna throw that out there like I expect anythin’, ’cause I don’t. If anythin’, you’ve given me more than I ever thought I’d…” Spike shook his head. “More than anythin’, sweet.”

_If there’s anything you want to, oh say, tell him, now would be the time to do it,_ Logical Buffy told her, arms crossed and toe-tapping impatiently.

She saw eternity in his eyes.

The moment passed before she could be convinced to speak up. His hands fell back to his sides, leaving her cold and bereft.

“Looks like the baddies aren’t gonna give you a show you tonight,” he said. “Want me to walk you home?”

The last place she wanted to go was home.

“Was just bein’ chivalrous,” Spike clarified a second later. “I know you can get home by yourself. Just don’t particularly want the night to end just yet.”

“I don’t either.”

Sure. _That_ she could say.

“Fancy headin’ back to the crypt to watch a seasonally appropriate flick, then?” He paused. “I admit it’s not posh, but it’d at least get the ambiance right.”

“Why, Mr. The Bloody, are you asking me on a date?”

That adoring smile that she loved so much spread across his lips, and he tilted his head, eyes flickering. “Would you say yes?”

“Are you gonna chain me up?”

“Only if you ask real nice-like.”

Buffy shook her head and chuckled. “Let’s go make with the movie watchage, chain-boy. Something nice and Halloweeny.”

“I already suggested that it be seasonally appropriate.”

“Yeah, well…okay. Consider that one yea vote for seasonal appropriateness.” She shrugged. “You have snacky goods at your place?”

“Weetabix?”

“Like…movie appropriate goods.”

“Well, we still have to head over to Restfield,” he said. “And there’s a place we can stop on the way just to make sure.”

Buffy nodded, a giddy rush claiming her body.

God, this was really happening, wasn’t it? This was really happening.

Her inner debate over her feelings for him was over. She figured being honest with herself was the first step to take if she wanted to be honest with him.

As for now, they were on a date.

A date with Spike, on Halloween, in which they would curl up on the sofa in his crypt and watch scary movies. The night simply couldn’t get any better, though she was hoping it would.

Hoping for things she could have if she could defeat her fear of the unknown.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy licked her lips, watching Spike move through the crypt, lighting candles. “Mood-lighting?” she teased, leaning back on the sofa.

He tossed her a cheeky look over his shoulder. “I got you here, didn’t I?”

“That’s because of your…what was it? Sinister attraction.”

“Bloody right.” He finished lighting the candles and slid the lighter back into his duster pocket, then tossed the coat itself to his worn rocking chair. “I don’t have a wide selection of flicks, pet. Didn’t really see myself doin’ much entertainin’ here.”

“Well, it’s Halloween,” Buffy observed, shrugging as he approached, moving over to make room for him. “I’m sure every station is playing some kind of special. Didn’t you wanna watch _The Great Pumpkin_? Which, by the way, totally adorable.”

Spike scowled good-naturedly. “Hey. Watch it.”

“Well, come on! The Big Bad William the Bloody, watching Charlie Brown on Halloween?”

“’Cause of the sodding chip! Don’t you think I’d love to be out there, raisin’ all kinds of hell? Bein’ one of the vamps that you… Bloody hell, Slayer, stop laughin’ at me!”

Buffy was doubled over, holding her stomach and giggling so hard that she sure she was red in the face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, holding up a hand. “You’re right, honey. You’re the biggest of the big bads.”

“Bloody right.” He paused, then broke into a huge smile. “You’re callin’ me…honey?”

She waved a hand airily, avoiding his eyes, even as her cheeks seared with heat. “It’s just a thing,” she said.

“And sayin’ I’m…the biggest?”

“Pig.”

“As a member of the male race, yes.” He stared down at her. “You want me beside you, or at the opposite end of the divan so I can’t touch you?”

Buffy frowned and grabbed his hand, tugging him down beside her, curling into his embrace before resting her head on his chest. “Touching good,” she countered. “More touching.”

She felt rather than heard him purr in turn, as he wound an arm around her. God, why it had taken her so long to discover what a thoroughly sensual man he was, she would never know. He was so attuned to everything; he sighed with every breath she took. He laughed every time she did, and cried whenever she was upset. The love he expressed with the slightest touch, the briefest glance had been there from the beginning. Why was it only now that she was seeing it?

“Mmm,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “That feels nice.”

Spike shivered and brushed tendrils of hair out of her face. “Buffy…”

She waited for a second but he didn’t continue. Rather, he reached for the remote and flicked on the television and let the static of false reality fill in the space between them.

“How do you have cable in here?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Same way I have a fridge and a telly.”

“I still haven’t figured those out.”

“You fight ghoulies that aren’t supposed to exist and you marvel at the sodding technology.” Spike snickered and shook his head. “You’re a simple girl, Slayer.”

“Hey!”

“It’s all right. I love you, anyway.”

She warmed all over. Though his tone was casual, she knew the sentiment was anything but. “I know.”

“Let’s see what drama’s dominatin’ the airwaves tonight.”

“Edited,” she pointed out with a pout. “All the good stuff will be edited out. Not to mention all the commercials.”

“Well…yeah. Little girls get scared of these movies, y’know.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re a tiny slip of a thing,” he teased, raking his eyes down her body. “And yeah, you’re definitely a girl.”

Buffy smirked. “Well, yes, I’ll concede the obvious. But I’m not afraid of monsters on television.”

She knew too much about the real world to be concerned with the false one.

“Better not be,” her vampire retorted, tightening his arm around her. “You’re with one now. Wouldn’t wanna let your guard down.”

“Ohhh, is that _Interview with a Vampire_?”

Spike growled and changed the channel. “Not gonna spend the night with my best girl watchin’ the onscreen portrayal of her one and soddin’ only. ’Course Louie had character. More than I can say for Angel.”

She bit back a grin at that. “Plus, Brad Pitt? Much sexier than Angel.”

“The bloke looks like a chit in this flick!”

“Oh, what’s this? Are you coming to Angel’s defense?”

Spike growled again and turned his attention back to the television, sulking. “No,” he replied. “Just don’t fancy holdin’ you while you think about other men. This time right now is mine to pretend…” He paused. “I just don’t want to break the illusion until the last possible moment.”

Buffy paused and met his eyes. “Spike, it’s…it’s not…”

“It’s not what?”

She heard the sound of the television somewhere in the background from where it had settled on VH1. On screen, Susan Sarandon was singing to a lean, blond monster man in a gold bikini.

“It’s not…” The hammering of her heart echoed through in her head, pulsing through every inch of her being. And there was no room for thought or second-guessing. The look in his eyes was open and vulnerable—he had put himself on a platter for her. There was fear, yes, but love drowned out those fears for the greater understanding that whatever they had, large or small, was worth the sacrifice.

He was terrified, too, but that had never stopped him. Not where she was concerned.

The next thing she knew, she had closed the space between them, brushing her lips over his. He froze against her for a long second, then moaned and melted into her kiss. He tugged her closer, his tongue requesting entrance to her mouth, which she granted with enthusiasm. God, he tasted exquisite. If liberation had a flavor, Spike embodied it. His darkness merged with light, his flaws battled perfection—the demon and the man converged in a yellow wood, and he poured everything into the union of their lips.

“Buffy,” he whimpered, drawing her closer.

“Guh…”

“My Slayer.” He broke his lips from hers, his mouth taking chart down her throat. He sucked at her skin, tugging her completely in his lap so that she was straddling his waist. “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

“Oh god!”

It didn’t sound like a protest when it escaped her lips, so color her confused when he broke away, panting.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her throat. “I didn’t mean…”

“What?”

He glanced between them. “I got carried away. You don’t have any bloody idea what affect you have on me.”

“I don’t—”

“Didn’t mean to…” He nudged his hips forward, and her eyes went wide at the feel of him hard between her thighs, pressing against her center. “We better stop.”

Why?

She was so stunned that she let him push her off his lap, then watched as he rose to his feet.

“Want somethin’ to drink?” he asked, pretending to be casual. Pretending that nothing had changed.

Pretending because she knew that he thought that was what she wanted.

“Ummm…bottle of water,” she said shakily.

“Want any of the goodies we bought?”

She’d almost forgotten about the candy. “Reese’s?”

Spike tossed her a pack, followed by a chilled bottle of water. He poured himself a glass of blood, then grabbed a box of Weetabix and a beer. “Take the clicker, if you like,” he said, gesturing to the abandoned remote. “See if there’s anythin’ on that tickles your fancy.”

Buffy licked her lips and changed the channel. “Not interested in more _Rocky Horror_?”

He smirked. “Not one for musicals, love.”

“I think you’re intimidated by Rocky’s tan. He’s a blond piece of hunka hunka monster love to light my fire, and he’s not sun-deprived.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Well, pet, it wasn’t bloody Rocky that had you all hot and bothered a few minutes ago.”

She shrugged. “Believe that if you like,” she retorted, smothering a grin and changing the channel again. “Oh, _Fright Night_!”

“No.”

“You really don’t like vampire movies, do you?”

“I don’t fancy misrepresentations of my species.”

“They’re movies. They misrepresent everything. See!” She pointed to the television. “No girl has boobs that big. Well, except Pam Anderson.”

Naturally, her observation drew his eyes to her own chest, which had really been her intention. “I like ‘em natural,” he murmured. “Like yours. Bloody perfect handful. No sodding silicon.”

“Mmmm…really?”

He nodded.

Buffy resisted the impulse to wiggle in her seat. She turned her attention back to the television, which had settled on the TV Guide Channel. “You know,” she said, “I never quite got the point of this.”

“Whass’at?” He was still ogling her boobs.

“A channel that broadcasts TV shows while running a listing of what else you should be watching…while telling you to watch their crappy programming. It… Oh my god, do you have that channel!”

“What?”

She giggled and pointed at the screen. “It’s a dirty channel,” she said. “And you’re, you know, evil, so you probably traffic pornography. Oh my god, we have to watch that.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “You wanna watch porn with me?”

“It’s _The Erotic Rites of Countess Dracula_! It has to be hilarious!”

“You…wanna watch porn with me?”

“Well, damn. You don’t have that channel.” She pouted. “Oh well. _Arachnophobia_?”

“If you wanna watch porn, I’m sure I can find—”

Buffy tossed him a sly smile. “I don’t want to watch porn,” she said, biting back a giggle at the desolate look on his face. “I wanted to watch a dirty Halloweenish movie. Come on—Countess Dracula? For the laughs, it’d be enough… Oh my god, _Ghost_!”

Spike plopped down beside her again and snatched the remote away. “We’re not watching a sodding chick flick,” he growled. “Now, let’s see if we can find some seasonally appropriate porn.”

“Oh, get off the porn!”

“Well, yeah, pet. That’s generally the idea.”

She flushed and pried open her pack of Reese’s. “Just remembered something random,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you ever see the commercials a few years back about there being more than one way to eat these things?”

Spike shot her a suggestive look.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of god, stop thinking about porn.”

“Blame yourself, pet. You brought it up. You can’t mention somethin’ like that with a bloke who’s in love with you and dyin’ for just one touch.”

_You touched me earlier. No one told you to stop._ She frowned. _I didn’t tell you to _not_ stop, either. I haven’t told you anything._

“Ahh, ummm…the ad I was talking about… They did a thing on vampires and how they could suck the peanut butter out of the chocolate. Do you remember that?”

Spike’s eyes danced. “That’s a real talent, that is.”

“Can you do it?”

He took a long drink of his blood. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He turned his attention back to the television. “_The Omen_, Slayer. How ‘bout it?”

Buffy bit into her Reese’s and nodded, settling back. He wasn’t going to play that game anymore, and she understood. Hell, thus far, he’d been rather sporting about her avoidance behavior. She was reaching for him, and his arms were open for her. It wasn’t up to him to make her decision for her.

“They don’t make scary movies like this anymore,” she said. “Gregory Peck? So above this genre… Really, who would put Atticus Finch in the role of the devil’s child’s earth daddy?”

“There’s loads of exposition,” Spike replied. “Most audiences wouldn’t fancy it nowadays.”

“Most audiences are lame.”

He tossed her a grin. “We’re agreed.”

Buffy took a long sip of her water. “Gregory Peck has that classic appeal,” she noted, resting her head against his chest again. “Though I don’t much like the idea of just taking a baby and saying it’s yours without even telling your wife.”

“He’s not a bleeding saint. That’s the point.”

She shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Still.”

Spike frowned. “Sleepy, sweetheart?”

“A little.”

“Wanna go home?”

It was a question he’d clearly asked because he knew it was expected. And while she appreciated that, Buffy had resolved not to leave the crypt until there was some understanding between them. They’d come too far tonight to be back at square one when she saw him again. She wasn’t going to let herself go anywhere until he knew exactly what she wanted.

“No,” she said at last. “I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

He relaxed. “Good. I wanna keep you here a little longer.”

“Good. I wanna be kept.” She took another drink of her water and snuggled into his side again. “You don’t mind if I doze, though, do you?”

“You mean fall asleep in my arms? Can’t have that.” He tugged her closer and encouraged her head to rest on his shoulder. “Sleep away, darling. I’ll keep the baddies from comin’ after you.”

“Mmmm…”

The minute she closed her eyes, she had no desire to reopen them. The crypt settled around her and she was lost in Spike’s embrace. She’d been running on fumes for days, it seemed. Putting on different hats, playing different roles, being everything for everyone except herself. The version of herself that she was now.

But when she was with Spike… Yeah, she could just _be._ There was such freedom in that.

And it was that thought and the peace it brought that lulled her into sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the file labeled "Things Holly is Discovering About Her Younger Self As She Edits Her Spuffy Stories": I had a thing about naughty dreams leading to masturbation leading to sex. Apparently. This is the second fic I've edited where this occurs. Maybe we can start a bingo or a drinking game to see how often it comes up in others.

Spike chased his last mouthful of blood with the rest of Buffy’s bottled water and tried not to moan at the thought that he was tasting a place where her mouth had been. The night had, at some point, stretched into a lifetime. He prayed for darkness to battle the light a little longer. There were a few hours of Halloween left and he wanted keep her. She slept in his arms, her head on his chest and her legs tucked beneath her. She stirred and murmured every now and then, but was otherwise completely tuckered out.

She had no idea what she did to him. How much trust she had placed in him by simply falling asleep like this.

Tonight was more than he’d thought he would ever be allowed. Simply being with her was an aphrodisiac, but she’d let him in. She’d opened the door to her heart to him, and for the first time in his bloody unlife, he had absolutely no idea how to proceed. He wanted so badly to do right by her. Wanted to make decisions that were for her benefit and not for his—wanted to bear in mind that she wasn’t fully all right, despite the brave face she wore. Her friends demanded so much from her, and she gave it over. They wanted her to be happy, but not for her. So they could pat themselves on the back and tell themselves they’d done right by her.

Living in a world of blissful ignorance was no excuse. Death wasn’t something that anyone could walk away from without limping a little. To assume that she could come back and be peachy keen in a matter of days, even if she had been freed from some tortuous hell dimension, was sodding absurd.

They made living miserable for her, only she would never admit it. Not aloud, anyway. Not even to herself.

No one should ever expect anything from her ever again. Buffy had been torn from peace and sent back to the Hellmouth. She was a true fallen angel—as close to Heaven as he would ever hope to get. And for whatever reason, she had chosen him.

She was in his arms tonight because she had chosen him.

He just had to be careful not to bugger it up. The fact that he had her so close was absolutely terrifying. With every breath he took, every moment he stole, he was certain he would do something to ruin everything. That she would realize who she was with at last. That she would come to her senses and leave him.

Or worse…that she would realize just how far she’d pushed things between them tonight. She’d snogged him, tested his every bloody instinct, and breaking away from her had just about done him in. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done it, only that the conscience she’d sparked to life the previous year had started harping at him. Reminding him of the thing he’d told himself in May—that she would never love him and being treated like something other than a monster was more than enough for him.

How would it look if the first test of that, he turned into a desperate ploy for sex? He loved her and that meant being whatever she needed. No payment necessary in exchange for friendship. She needed a place where people didn’t expect anything from her and he wanted to be the one to provide it.

Buffy murmured something and shifted but didn’t waken. The movement made him tremble, as small as it was. He felt every breath she took. She was so close to him. If he touched her, she wouldn’t disappear.

He so badly wanted to believe everything that had happened here was real. That Buffy was with him because she felt something for him. She’d all but said as much tonight when she wasn’t talking herself in circles. He knew she wanted him physically, but having that part of her without the rest of her would eventually kill them both. The bot had shown him that much, fun as it had been. He couldn’t have just her body without having the part of her that she had given him thus far.

Spike exhaled deeply and glanced down again. She looked so peaceful, curled into his side. As though the worries that plagued her nights had finally given her rest.

He turned his eyes back to the telly, downed the rest of her water, then tossed the bottle to the other side of the crypt. He knew he should wake her up and let her know that it was time to go home, but he hadn’t the heart. She’d told him of the nightmares that haunted her sleep, and if he could give her one night away from that, he’d move mountains to make it so.

“Mmmm,” Buffy cooed, shifting again.

He smiled at her, brushing his lips across her brow. “I love you.”

A grin flirted with her lips at that. “Spike…”

He froze for a long second but shook it off. She was sleeping but still aware enough of her surroundings to suss out who was talking to her. Not much could be read into that. So he kissed her forehead again and turned his eyes back to the television, where _The Silence of the Lambs_ was beginning to play on AMC.

“Uhhhh…”

“Buffy?”

No reply. Must be dreaming. He pursed his lips and glanced down the sofa to the pack of abandoned Reese’s, then grinned to himself.

If nothing else, tonight had been a night he would never forget.

A notion that was all the more solidified when he made a move to reach for the Reese’s and inadvertently caused Buffy’s head to slide from his chest and land on his crotch.

Spike went numb.

_Oh bollocks. _

He sat completely motionless for several long seconds, willing his idiot brain to kick into gear. Buffy didn’t appear bothered by the movement. Rather, she released a sensual sigh and rubbed her face against him before settling once more, and he could’ve sworn his blood was on fire.

_All right. S’okay. You didn’t do this on purpose. She’ll understand that. _

He snorted to himself at that. Right. In what universe?

“Mmmphfff,” Buffy moaned, draping an arm over his leg, nudging the bulge in his jeans with a move that his body interpreted as sensuous.

Spike gasped and threw his head back. “Why me?” he asked the ceiling. “You wankers up there think this is funny, do you? Get me this close and then—”

“Spiiiiike.”

He glanced down. “Buffy?”

“Uhhh…”

It hit him out of nowhere. An aroma so powerful, the gods would fall to their knees in reverence. Spike willed his eyes closed and moaned softly. God, she was…she couldn’t be…

Then he felt her lips caress his leg through his jeans, and he knew.

“Mmmm…”

“Bloody hell,” he whimpered. “You’re not makin’ this easy on me, pet.”

Buffy didn’t reply. Rather, she straightened her legs, so she was stretched across the sofa.

“Buffy…”

He didn’t know whether he was pleading with her to wake up or encouraging her dreams to become more active. He didn’t know what to do with his hands; didn’t know if he should try to lift her off him or caress her in encouragement. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew what he should do. Of course he knew what he should do.

God, he wanted her so much.

“Spike…ohhh…”

Hearing her whimper his name like that wasn’t doing much to kill his erection.

He didn’t want to move her. He didn’t want to wake her up. He didn’t want her to leave the crypt. He didn’t want to ruin the night because his cock wouldn’t obey him.

If she awoke and bolted because of this, he would never forgive himself.

Buffy murmured again. “Need…”

_Fuck. _

No good could come from this. She either awoke with her face against his cock or by him shoving her away to avoid temptation. Either way, he was completely buggered.

Spike drew in a deep breath. Better to wake her up.

_And ruin this? _

No. Better to try and move her.

That proved to be a bad decision. He started nudging her down his lap—thankfully off his erection—then realized if he nudged her anymore, she would fall onto the ground.

And moving her had intensified her scent. More of that heady slayer musk he’d only sniffed from a distance before. Now he was swimming in it—in her. And she was thinking of him.

_Bloody hell. _

Spike blinked, barely aware of how hard he was panting. _Well, here you are, you right git. How do you get yourself out of this? _

She was asleep. She was murmuring, but she was asleep. And his erection wasn’t going anywhere. Especially with her arousal swimming around his head, her body pressed to his. This was going to be awkward no matter how he tried to spin it.

_Do the decent thing and wake her up! _

His hands had other ideas. His hands were in the process of unbuttoning his jeans. Too bloody tight, he told himself, a thought that vanished the second his cock sprang into his waiting grasp. Buffy was lying in his lap and she was dreaming of getting to know him biblically, and he was, after all, just a man.

“Uhh…”

“Bloody hell,” he gasped, stroking his shaft in time with her whimpers. “Buffy…oh my god.”

His eyes were glued to her. The look on her face as the Spike in her subconscious did god-knows-what to her body. He stared at her intently, pumping his cock as his mind flashed to a thousand different scenarios. What she saw in a world with no fear of repercussion. He saw them moving together rhythmically. Saw himself pinning her hands above her head as he thrust himself deep inside her. Saw himself laving her throat with kisses, pinching her nipples with eager fingers, massaging her clit. Saw himself with her, curling up behind her, his arm over her middle. Saw her smile when he told her how much he loved her, and felt his body warm when she gave those words back to him.

Buffy shifted again, just slightly, her hands, coming to rest above her crotch.

Spike willed his eyes closed, stroking his erection furiously. He was so close he could taste it.

“Ohhhh…” she moaned.

For a second, he could’ve sworn his heart had started pounding. “Buffy!”

The cry reverberated loudly through the crypt, and it was over. Her eyes opened, and the earth stopped spinning. Spike froze, his hand stilling around his cock, his gaze deadlocked with hers. In a blink, everything was gone. He’d ruined it. God, he’d ruined it all.

“No,” he moaned. He had never hated himself more richly than he did at that moment. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t… I wasn’t tryin’ to, but then you were…oh Buffy, please don’t—”

Buffy sat up slightly.

“God, baby, I didn’t mean to. Please don’t… We had fun tonight, yeah? We had—”

Then something happened. She curled her fingers around his wrist and he released his cock immediately.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t—oh Jesus!”

She closed her hand around his shaft and flashed him a shy grin. His world changed in that grin.

“B-Buffy?”

She didn’t say anything. Rather, kept pumping him slowly, her eyes glued to his face. He wondered for an insane minute if she thought she was still dreaming. God, shouldn’t he tell her that she wasn’t dreaming?

“Sweetheart, are you—”

But then she dipped her head and sucked the tip of his cock between her lips and rational thought flew out the proverbial window. Spike threw his head back, a long moan tearing through his throat. “Fucking hell.”

Buffy murmured her approval and took him deeper into her mouth, her tongue doing things to him he’d only touched before in fantasies. It was unreal that she was here, that she was with him, her head bobbing in his lap, her fist curled around the base of his dick, squeezing with every pull of her mouth. And her eyes—fuck, her eyes were on him.

“Buffy,” he whimpered, his hips thrusting forward of their own volition. “What are you doing to me?”

She drew her head back and released him with a wet plop. “I’m loving you,” she replied, and the skies came tumbling down. “I’m loving you.”

His eyes misted, a gasp strangling his throat. “What?”

“I’m loving you.” She pressed a path of sweet kisses up and down his length before shifting slightly to get a better angle. The hand not wrapped around him dropped to his balls. Her eyes never abandoned his. “I think I love you, Spike.”

_Oh my god. _

“Am I dreaming?” he demanded. “Bloody hell, Slayer, tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming.”

Pleasure shivered through his body, tailed with euphoria that he was too cynical to trust. He cupped her cheek, watching in awe as she laved his cock with her tongue. As she took him deep into her mouth, sucking him into oblivion. Her words hung in the air around them, and he dared himself to believe them.

She grinned as though she knew what he was thinking and hummed against his skin. She drew her lips back up his length, then traced the head with her tongue. “You like that?”

“Fuck yes,” he gasped, threading his fingers through her hair. “Love anything you do to me. Anything. Love you. Fuck, I love you. I love you. Don’t let this be a dream, pet. Too bloody good.”

“I’ve been a big ole chicken all night,” she said as she kissed a wet path to his sac, her hand pulling on him in the absence of her mouth. “Thinking things and… Yeah, it just feels right. And I died already so what’s there to be scared about?”

It didn’t surprise him much that she’d be scared. Fuck knew he’d been out of his bloody head when he’d realized how he felt. And perhaps if she hadn’t chosen that moment to tongue his balls, he might have been able to reflect on this more. But the fact was she did, and the pieces of thought that had been clouding his head dissipated.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Love your mouth, Slayer. Love your fucking tongue. Love this. You. Fuck, I love you, Buffy.”

She hummed, the sound reverberated against his skin. Buffy had a hand was around his cock and her lips were caressing his balls. Spike screwed his eyes shut and drowned in sensation, attempting to concentrate on anything that would keep him from shooting off. He was too afraid that this would end once he reached fruition. That despite her words, he would find himself in the middle of a dream that could never know reality, and she would vanish as she did after he awoke, and he would be alone once more.

A long, needy moan played upon his lips when her mouth returned to his cock. “Fuck!” he gasped, leaning into her.

“That seems to be your favorite word,” she said, seemingly calm, though he heard a tremor in her voice. As though she was as overwhelmed by what was happening as he was.

Spike shook his head against the sofa. “Bloody hell, pet…” Her teeth scraped his tip just slightly and he jerked in surprise. “You gotta…I can’t…”

Whether or not he ever finished the thought, he didn’t know. His body took over where his mind remained uncertain, thrusting forward into her hot, wet mouth. She hummed in surprise but didn’t object. Rather, she drew him as far into her as possible, until his head brushed the back of her throat, and she began swallowing around him.

“Shit!” Spike gasped, back arching off the sofa again. His eyes flew open and found hers, and that was it. The sight of her gaze trained solely on him with her mouth wrapped around his cock completely did him in. “Buffy—”

She nodded her understanding.

“I—I’m—”

Then it was over. He tumbled into oblivion with a passionate roar, fisting her hair as he emptied himself into her welcoming throat. He’d always thought that the old adage of seeing stars was nothing more than a romantic’s notion, but god tonight, he knew it was true. With her mouth around him, her arousal perfuming the air and her _loving _him, he’d never been closer to Heaven. And he wagered for everything in the world that it was as near as he’d ever get.

Buffy had given him stars.

“Fuck me,” he panted. “Oh, Buffy.”

Buffy didn’t answer. Her tongue was still exploring his cock.

“Buffy…ahhh! Please…” He reached for her, and amazingly—amazingly—she obliged him. The next thing he knew, she was straddling his waist, and her mouth engulfed his in a fiery kiss. Spike’s blood sang, and this time, there was no pulling back. She devoured him in her hungry inferno, her tongue dancing with his, her hands at his shoulders, then around his neck. There had never been a sweeter homecoming.

It was over in a blink. Her mouth left his and she extracted herself from his arms, leaving him in a daze on the sofa.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, his voice ragged, an octave away from pleading. “Don’t leave. God, please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” she replied, turning her hands to her jeans as she kicked off her shoes.

“You’re…getting undressed.”

“I might have only been with the one vampire the one time, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be good to go again here in a sec.” She smirked and stripped her pants down her legs. “And doing that made me horny.”

Spike barked a laugh, raking his gaze up and down her legs. “Fancy you can do that anytime you like, love.”

“Something I will definitely take you up on.”

“Christ.” He met her gaze again, forcing an awkward smile. “You sure I’m not dreamin’?”

“Unless your dreams are very naughty.”

“Slayer, I built a sodding robot to shag. All of me is naughty.”

“Well, I’m not a robot. Also, don’t ever do that again.”

Now that he’d had the real thing around his cock? He didn’t think he’d be good for any other woman and he didn’t want to be. He wanted to belong to her.

“But I was thinking earlier. A lot. I mean, thoughts of Buffy have been pretty much nonstop since I got back.” She paused, swallowed, then finished disrobing. Then she was standing in front of him in just her top and knickers, the crotch of which was damp with her excitement. “And it means something that you’re the only person I want to be around. Who doesn’t make me feel…like I’m broken. Who I can be _me _with. I love that. And I love you for giving it to me. And since I’ve already died the once and now twice, I figure this time I can live by my rules.”

“Your rules bein’ that you can shag me?”

“That I can be with who I want.”

Spike felt her tug off his boots and socks. Watched as she tossed his jeans atop hers. And then she was back in his arms, nipping his throat, the wet cotton of her panties teasing his cock. Her mouth found his again, and he melted into her kiss.

_Real. It’s real. This is real. _

“Buffy…” He thrust his cock, which had swelled back to life in no time flat, against her center and moaned loudly when she took him into her hand again.

She pressed her brow to his, panting. “Spike…”

“My perfect, hot Slayer.”

“Mmm…” A sly grin spread across her lips, and she rubbed the head of his cock with her thumb. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

He smirked. “Always,” he agreed, leaning in to nibble on her ear. His hands came to rest at the hem of her top, and he tugged once before glancing at her uncertainly. “Can I?”

Buffy nodded. “Please.”

Spike swallowed hard and kissed her and tried not to bawl like a sodding infant at the taste of her against his lips. He trembled uncontrollably as he lifted her top over her head, eager eyes drawing in the sight of her. She wore a simple lace bra, outwardly unremarkable, but somehow on her, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, tugging at the straps.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck and licked at his skin. “Please,” she whispered.

“What, baby? What do you need?”

She drew in a deep breath, reeling her head back. Then she reached between them, grasped the sides of her panties, and to his utter astonishment, ripped them clean off her body.

“Bloody hell.”

“I figure these just get in the way.”

A slow grin played on his lips, and he kissed her as he tugged on her bra. “I’ll say,” he agreed with a growl. “Fuck, if I have it my way, you’ll never wear knickers again.”

She perked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Though I do fancy ripping them off you like that.”

She smiled and brushed her lips against his, wrapping her hand around his cock once more. A long shudder ran through him when she pressed him between her slick, hot labia. Then he was there, poised at her entrance, and it was really happening. God, this was really happening. Buffy was naked on his lap, her eyes shining, and she was about to take him into her body.

It wasn’t a figment of his imagination. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fantasy. Buffy was really with him now.

She really loved him.

“B-Buffy…”

“Shhh,” she urged, kissing him again. And then she sank onto his cock, and _fuck_, if she were any hotter, he would have dusted. He’d never known such perfection or heat. Her muscles clenched around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and she released the most beautiful little sigh he had ever heard.

“Ohhh, god, Spike…” She met his eyes uncertainly. “I…it’s been a while.”

The simple truth behind those words humbled him. Fuck, all things being equal, and her being alive again now, she’d just given him her virginity. “Are you all right?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“I just…I don’t want to disappoint you.” She glanced down. “Bad time to mention it, huh?”

“Bloody hell, Buffy, you could never disappoint me.”

A small smile fluttered across her face. She settled her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself off his lap with slow agony before sinking down again. “Not sure what tricks you programmed into that bot,” she said. “It’s—”

“Not you. Was never you. Could never be. This is what I wanted. What I’ve always wanted. Just you.” He sighed again and threw his head back, biting back a whimper when she clenched her muscles around him. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

Buffy shook her head, lifting herself off him again. “Never,” she breathed before swallowing his cock once more. Her movements were experimental but tempered. The demon screamed for something hard and fast, to flip her over and pound into her until neither of them remembered how their legs worked. However, Spike knew it was important that she be in control. The shock of being inside her after a lifetime of yearning notwithstanding, he had to do this right by her. He had to give her what she needed.

The demon recognized her for what she was—what she’d always been. Recognized the woman he had subconsciously claimed as mate the minute he’d caught her dancing in the Bronze so long ago. Her scent swam around him, her pussy hugging him with every plunge.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against her lips, cupping her breasts as his mouth fell to her throat. Her blood hummed against him, accelerated by her racing heart and the scent of sex surrounding them. “So bloody good.”

“You, too,” Buffy gasped, her pace increasing. She dropped her hands dropped to his T-shirt and pulled it over his head before lowering her own mouth to his chest. Her hips rolled against him as though fighting an oncoming wave. She drew him into her cunt and released him again, and the dance repeated itself. “Ohhh…”

“Yeah, Slayer, that’s it.” He pebbled her nipples between his fingers and tugged, watching her face hungrily.

His mind ran amuck with terrible clichés. A thousand verses to commit to paper—composed and forgotten in a blink. He watched her like a man starved. He lapped at her breasts and licked her nipples, clutched at her ass and thrust into her again and again. He held her close, but it was never close enough. He wanted to swallow her completely. Wanted to be swallowed. He was lost in her, and he didn’t want to ever be found.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered into her breast before sucking her nipple between his teeth. “So bloody amazing.”

“Spike…”

He slipped a hand between them to tease her where they were joined. She gasped and bucked against him, her movements becoming fast and demanding in a blink. And then he could do nothing but watch them come together, the sight of his slick cock pushing inside of her and back again. As he pressed his fingers against her clit, and the little moans that rode off her lips with each touch. She was close. God, he could taste how close she was.

“I love you,” he growled, bucking hard into her. “I love you, Buffy.”

“Yes. Yes!”

“Love you.” He lowered his mouth to her throat. “Wanna feel you come, sweet. Strangle my dick. Drench it. You’re so hot. So tight and wonderful.” He pressed harder against her clit as his blunt teeth scraped just slightly her skin. “You’re a goddess. My hot, fiery goddess.”

Her blood rushed against him, her body beating his into the sofa. “Oh!”

“Buffy—”

“Spike!”

The instant he felt her tense, the demon burst through, shoving the man aside. His fangs erupted in his mouth, and before the hint of rational thought could follow, he’d buried them in the Slayer’s throat. Her hoarse scream reverberated through the crypt, her body spasming hard around him, triggering his own orgasm. Spike growled into her skin. God, her blood was in his mouth. Her blood was in his mouth and she was coming hard.

_Mine! _the demon screamed.

For a minute, it felt like the earth moved in revelation. Buffy collapsed, panting against his shoulder. He encircled her with his arms encircled her and eased his fangs from her flesh.

An eternity passed then. Right then as he held her, torn in that terrible place between uncertainty and euphoria. Unsure whether or not he had overstepped. If she would think him disgusting for bringing his fangs into what they had just shared. If she would remember why she’d called him a monster so many times. Why she’d told him _no_ a lifetime ago when he chained her up downstairs. If this was just an itch she’d needed scratching. If she’d given him a taste of paradise—just a taste—but intended to return to her world, virtue fluttering.

He didn’t know what he’d do if she left him now. If she told him that she loved him, but not in a way that was meant to be forever. That she loved him, but he’d reminded her just now why vampires and slayers were never, ever supposed to be together.

He lived and died a thousand times in that silence. Then he couldn’t stand it anymore. He swallowed hard and forced his fears aside. “Buffy?”

There was nothing for a long moment. Then, slowly, she raised her head and met his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted before he could help himself.

Confusion stormed her eyes. “Why? God, you’re not regretting this, are you?”

Spike blinked. Wasn’t that his line?

“Regretting this? God, love, no.” _Never._ “I…I bit you.” _I nearly claimed you._ He didn’t tell her that part, though. He didn’t have the stones to share how little control he had over his demon. What he’d nearly done to her without so much as a friendly warning. “I could’ve—”

“Don’t be sorry for that,” she said.

“Buffy—”

“Don’t be sorry.” And she kissed him, stealing whatever lingering objection remained on his lips. Spike moaned and lost himself once again in her taste, relishing in the feel of her. She warred with his lips as though she was equally afraid that he would disappear. They clung to each other like figments of a dream they wanted to piece together.

“I love you, Spike,” she murmured. “I love you.”

Once again, the entirety of his being was engulfed in warmth. “I thought…”

“I know.”

He rested his forehead against hers and released a deep breath. “We need to talk about this, don’t we?”

She fidgeted and he moaned, his cock hardening within her. “Ooohhh, that feels good,” she whimpered.

“Buffy—”

“We need to talk about it.” She nodded her agreement, then paused and shook her head. “But not now.”

“I—”

A humorless grin played across her lips. “Believe it or not, I hadn’t intended this to happen like…this,” she said, edging herself off his lap. He whimpered as his swelling dick slipped out of her, but didn’t have the heart to object. More sex before talking was likely not the best idea. Especially with the look she was giving him.

_Fuck_.

“You’re not… You’re not leavin’, are you?”

She frowned, rising to her feet. He tried to not be distracted by her nudity. “I should,” she said softly.

_God, Buffy, please don’t leave. _

But he didn’t say that. “Dawn,” he replied reasonably, hoping he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt. “And the witches. You need—”

“I said I should leave,” Buffy emphasized. “Not that I am.”

Hope rippled through him. “You’re stayin’?”

“If…if it’s okay.”

Spike jumped up and tugged her into a tight hug. “Okay?” he demanded. “Okay? Buffy, I’d cross all Hell for the chance to keep you one bloody night. And now…god, now…”

_Now that you love me. _

She smiled and kissed him. “More than one night,” she said before bending over to gather his discarded shirt. “You mind if I borrow this?”

“Looks better on you,” he told her, flicking the television off after locating the remote from where it had wedged itself between sofa cushions.

“I disagree,” she replied.

“You would.”

“You’re damn sexy in this thing.”

“I’m damn sexy in anything, so that doesn’t count,” he retorted with a wink. “Come to think of it, so are you. But you…you’re wearin’ that shirt the way it’s meant to be worn. Can’t bloody well compete with that.

She blushed, and that was the end of that debate.

He reached for her hand, pleased when his skin tingled as it had all night when her fingers linked through his. And then, as though in a dream, he led her toward the place where he slept.

It didn’t occur to him until he turned down the bed that there would be a tomorrow. The sun would rise and bring life to a new day. And Buffy… Fuck, Buffy was going to be with him when he awoke. They would talk tomorrow, and god-willing, they would both finally get that blessed break from the Powers that they so richly deserved.

Buffy curled in his arms after he settled into bed next to her. She kissed his throat and murmured _good night_, and fell asleep in his bed, in his arms, as though they’d been doing this for years.

Spike was almost afraid to close his eyes, a small part of him still toying with the possibility that he was lost in some wonderful dream. But no, Buffy felt too real to be nothing more than an illusion. And for the first night in as many days since walking into the foyer of her home and seeing her there on the stairs, he was truly at peace.

He would make heaven on earth for her if she couldn’t have it above. He would make it for her right here.

He bloody swore he would.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who read this the first time -- there's a new ending. Enjoy.

Spike couldn’t keep himself from staring at her. God, she was magnificent.

Despite the night’s reassurances, he’d awoken every hour, certain that she would have fled after she came to her senses. But amazingly, every time he opened his eyes in a panic, she was still curled in his arms.

This was the stuff dreams were made of, he realized. A wish he’d whispered to the heavens god-knows how long ago, answered finally after so much pain.

_She loves me_. _She really loves me._

Did he dare believe it? Did he dare eat a peach? Did he dare disturb the universe?

Spike drew in a breath and ran a hand down her arm, pressing his lips to her brow.

_Do I dare? _

He brushed a few wayward strands of hair from her face and smiled at her sleeping face. For her, he’d gamble the world. She’d loved him the night before—there was no reason she wouldn’t love him now.

He kissed her brow again. “Buffy?”

She didn’t move. She was lost in sleep, pressed against him, her left arm curled around his waist, her leg over his, her head resting on his shoulder.

The night had been very good to him, but Christ, he wanted more.

“Sweetheart?” he murmured, sitting up. Buffy moaned and shifted at the movement, grabbing a pillow when he slipped away from her. He smiled, his lips grazing her shoulder. She looked so comfortable. So peaceful. As though she had not slept a night through until curling up in his sheets.

She didn’t belong in a hole in the ground. She belonged in sunlight.

He was just too selfish to give her up.

The other blokes in her life might be the type who could do the whole self-sacrifice bit. Angel, after all, had left her because he couldn’t give her normal. But she couldn’t ever have normal. Spike knew that. Hell, she’d tried it, and look where that had landed her. If she decided that he was the one she wanted, he was going to spend the rest of his unlife making sure she never regretted it.

“So sweet,” he murmured, kissing her throat this time. One taste, inevitably, made him ravenous for the rest of her. The previous night had happened so fast he hadn’t had the opportunity to even consider the million plus things he’d yearned to do to her. He’d always imagined it different. He’d always thought he’d be the seducer, that he’d have to take considerable time to break down the barriers her former lovers had helped her construct. He’d bathe her body with his tongue, worship her the way she’d never been worshipped.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin.

“Mmmm,” Buffy murmured, rolling onto her back. The sheet dragged down her body, and fuck, she looked hot in his shirt. The black against her creamy skin, fabric riding up, bunching around her belly. A low growl tickled his throat, and he inched the shirt up until her breasts were bare to him.

So much he wanted to do. Explore. And she was here for him—for all of it.

He licked a wet path around one of her nipples before sucking it hard into his mouth.

“Spike…” The sound came out twisted in a place between sleep and alert.

“I’m here, baby,” he rumbled, sliding his fingers over her mound to cup her pussy. “I’m right here.”

“Ohhh…” Buffy released a heady gasp, her eyes flying open. And despite everything, Spike felt his chest constrict with impending dread. October was gone, the day had chased away the night, and what had been true last night might not be true today.

_But she loves me. _

“Good morning,” he purred, finding her clit with his thumb.

“Ahhhh.” She squeezed her eyes shut and thrust into his touch. “Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Mmmm…Spike…”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the swell of her breast. “That’s not an answer, love.”

“God, that feels good,” she whimpered, clutching his head. “Ohhh…”

Spike growled against her, his mouth wandering south. Her wetness ran over his skin, taunting his tastebuds, and the small whimpers that tore through her throat drove him completely out of his mind. He needed her like he needed blood—the way other men needed air and water. He needed to show her that she was everything.

“Oh god!” she cried when he buried his face between her legs. “Spike!”

“Need to drink you,” he murmured and nipped at her clit. “Been fantasizing about this cunt for over a year now. Gotta know how it tastes.”

“I…I am okay with that.”

“You sure?” The words were a tease. He dragged his tongue from her clit to her opening. “Know we promised to talk, sweet. I just can’t resist your taste.”

“No talk. More taste,” she agreed, arching into his mouth.

He chuckled, and she shivered in response. “Fuck, you’re delicious,” he murmured, indulging in long laps of her slit. “Knew you would be, but bloody hell, Buffy…”

“Unh!”

“So beautiful.” He tongued her opening, swirled patterns over her soaked flesh before returning his attention to her clit. The whimpers and cries that rumbled through her throat had his blood on fire. Buffy was on his bed. He was buried in her delectable pussy, and she was moaning his name. She was everywhere, writhing beneath him and flooding his mouth. She was the air he didn’t need to breathe and the blood that kept him alive. She was poured into every crevice of his existence. He became more boisterous in what his mouth took, curling his arms under her thighs to anchor her place as he licked and sucked and growled into her. As she let him.

_Mine, mine, mine, mine. _

“Spiiiike,” she gasped, thrusting herself against his face. “Oh my god.”

“Right here,” he whispered. “Your Spike’s right here.”

“Ohhh…”

He licked her opening once more then drew back, panting, and stared at her pink, swollen pussy. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he murmured, slipping his ring and middle finger inside her, whimpering when she clenched around him to drag him in deeper. He angled upward as he began to pump his hand so that his index finger struck her clit with every push. And for a few seconds, he was content simply to watch her as he fucked her like this. Watch the way she panted and begged, arching into his touch in a wordless demand for more.

“You like that?” Spike growled, curling his fingers inside her.

“Oh god!”

“Love the way you feel around me.” He leaned forward and licked at her nipples. “How you squeeze. The way that feels around my cock.”

“Spike! Spike…oh god!”

The sound of her crying out his name like that was nearly too much in itself. God, how often had he dreamed of this? Of being on the receiving end of her sighs and moans, her love and affection. She didn’t look away when his hungry eyes devoured her face. Didn’t try to fool herself into believing she was with someone else.

Everything he wanted was right here.

Buffy licked her lips and murmured in approval when he dropped his mouth to her skin once more and lapped a wet path back to her clit. “Yes…Spike, please…”

“Mmm…love that. Beg me some more.”

She tried to glare at him, but her efforts died without a struggle. “Please!” she gasped, thrusting against him.

He grinned and nipped at her inner thigh, his gaze trained on the sight of his fingers as they disappeared into her over and over again. Then he needed to feel it—feel her tighten around him and drench his hand. He licked around her engorged clit once, twice, before drawing it into his mouth with a hard suck.

Buffy fisted his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. “Ah!”

Every whimper that escaped her went straight to his cock. He grunted ineloquently and flicked her with his tongue as he ground himself against the mattress. “Mmmm.”

“So good, so good,” she gasped, her head flying back. “This is so good.”

The words made him tremble. And it was only the beginning, Spike vowed as his teeth scraped at her sodden flesh. Only the beginning. He plunged his tongue back inside her tight, wet hole, groaning as her juices filled his mouth. He was never letting her go. He delved and drank. He fondled her to perfection, pulled away, then did it again. He made love to her with his mouth and decided he could stay here forever. Needing her. Worshipping her. Loving her. He found that perfect spot within her and stroked with vehemence until her muscles clamped around him, her thighs trapping his head, and her tremors reach their apex. He grasped her to hold her steady, and he drank her down.

Spike wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as she rode out her orgasm. He rested against her stomach and drew her in, enjoying the feel of her fingers running through his hair.

“Buffy…” he murmured into her skin. “Christ, I love you so much.”

He felt her tremble. “I love you, too.”

His eyes fluttered shut and a deep shudder quaked through him. “You do?” he dared himself to ask, meeting her gaze the next minute.

A frown marred her face. She reached for him, cupping his cheek. “I do. I…I didn’t just say it to get what I wanted last night.”

“I know that.” He offered a half-smile. “It’s just…feels too bloody good to be true.”

Buffy shook her head. “I love you. I wasn’t entirely sure until last night but…it’s been coming. Ever since I got back, it’s… It scared me but it felt right.”

“Scared?”

She blushed and glanced away. “I’m not saying my reasoning makes sense,” she said. “It’s just…everyone I’ve loved or thought I loved has left me. Maybe I thought—”

That sealed it. The last stone fell into place. “Never leavin’ you,” he swore. “Never. I can’t. It’d bloody well kill me.”

“I’m holding you to that because if you do leave, I’ll be seriously pissed.”

“Never happen, pet.” He offered a smile and kissed her stomach. “Guess I’m just waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. Like you love me, but we can’t be together, or your mates can’t know about it, or—”

“No.”

“No?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. It can’t happen like that. I love you and you’re a part of my life. I’m not hiding. I don’t care what my friends think.”

“Really?”

“They tore me from the one place where I’ve never…” She tensed and looked away, finding his hand and squeezing hard. “I’m not going to let them take me away from the one man that’s ever helped my life make any sense. Be it as enemies or allies…or lovers.”

“I favor that last one, personally.”

“I don’t owe them anything. I’ve already died so that they can live… What more do they want for me? They brought me back to life so I’m going to live the way I want. They can deal. The ship on normal has sailed. Hell, I don’t think it docked in the first place.”

“You wanted it, baby,” Spike murmured. “You’ve wanted normal ever since I first knew you.”

An incredulous snicker erupted from her lips. “Yeah. What’s normal?”

“Boring,” he supplied.

“Well, I mean, normal is relative. I’m the Slayer. I’ve been dead and brought back to life—twice! Once with an actual coffin and stuff. My normal isn’t going to be Jane Doe’s normal. I can’t have that…and if I did, yeah, I think I’d be bored out of my mind.”

“Like you were with Captain Cardboard.”

“Hey.” She scowled at him. “That’s not nice.”

Spike shrugged. “I’m not a nice bloke,” he said. “Plus, I happen to be right. You, Slayer, were bored off your extremely bitable ass.”

“That’s beside the point.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Well, no, but my being bored wasn’t Riley’s fault. I should’ve seen it, but I was so determined to hold onto my stupid normal so that my friends wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that normal for me always going to be another vampire.”

He stilled. “Buffy?”

She smiled and caressed his cheek. “Well, to be honest, I was in denial for years.”

“So was I.”

“Yeah, but you had Psycho Woman to help you figure it out.”

“How’d you know about that?”

Buffy released a deep breath. “Dawn. Dawn and I have talked a lot about you…recently, anyway. Over the past few days…in my slow but steady reemergence into the land of the hellmouthy living. She’s told me everything you told her over the summer.”

“Bit should know better than yappin’.”

“She wants me to be happy. And you, too.” She paused. “Tara also told me some things. About how you were… How you’ve been. And other things, too. Like how you came by last year to leave flowers for Mom but Xander said it was—”

“Yeah,” he said. “I remember. Don’t recall the Good Witch bein’ there, though.”

She shrugged. “Guess these are communal stories that they’ve told each other.”

“And what are you gonna tell them, then?” he asked. “About us?”

“They don’t deserve any explanations.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

Buffy squeezed his hand and smiled. “I told you, I’m not going to keep it from them, Spike. You’re a part of my life. A big part.”

Hope filled his insides. “And what happens next?”

“I really don’t know. Like I said last night, this wasn’t exactly how I planned things to happen.”

Spike smiled. “Plans too often bugger themselves over, pet,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to her clit before shifting upward until he was dragging the head of his cock between her soaked folds. When she was fully under him, he fisted the material of his T-shirt and whipped it over her head. Glorious as she looked in it, he preferred her like this. “I’d rather bugger you.”

“Ohhhh…I think I like being buggered.”

He chuckled. “Be careful, Slayer. I might get brave one night and try it.”

“Try what?”

Grinning, he ran his finger down the seam of her pussy, then farther until he was tapping her puckered hole. “A good buggering.”

“Oh. I, ahh, that’s—”

“We’ll work up to it, how about?” He winked. “Can make it really good for you, love.”

“Uhh, hold that thought.”

Another chuckle rumbled through his throat. “Think you should use my words more often. Bloody adorable.”

“Get inside me.”

“So bossy.”

“Do it. A sexually frustrated slayer is a dangerous slayer.”

Spike smirked and pushed his cock inside of her with a sigh of completion. “Baby, with me, you’ll never be sexually frustrated.”

“So cocky.”

He withdrew and slammed into her again, and again, finding a rhythm somewhere between the hard rutting he wanted and the simpler lovemaking she seemed to like. By the time she left, though, he’d have had her on all fours, her pert little ass in the air. He had a feeling his slayer liked it rough, too. But they had plenty of time to experiment. “And don’t you forget it.”

Buffy whimpered, her hands flying to his forearms, nails digging into his skin as her hips moved with his. She was so tight. So hot. So bloody perfect. “Oh, god,” she whimpered, her muscles contracting around him. “Spike…”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Spike purred against her. “Dance with me.”

“Feels so good.”

“You, too. Like nothin’ I’ve ever felt before.” He slid his hands up her sides and cupped her breasts, watching her as she arched into him. He pumped harder, faster, relishing the feel of her cunt squeezing his cock for everything he was worth. Of her head thrown back in pleasure, pleasure flashing across her face that he had given her. “You’re perfect,” he murmured and brushed a kiss against her throat.

“Uhh…” She scratched at his shoulders. “You’re not so…unperfect yourself.”

He merely grinned and nipped at her breasts, thrusting harder still. “You won’t find anyone else who does this to you,” he growled. “And if you try, I’ll rip his throat out.”

“Spike…”

“You’re mine, Buffy. All mine.”

“Yes, yes!”

He ground his hips into hers and slid a hand between them to tease her clit. “Say it.”

She forced her eyes open. “Say what?” she asked, an innocent smile fluttering across her lips.

Spike’s demon snarled in return, though a wicked smirk tugged at his mouth. “Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

“Promises, promises.”

He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. “Say it!”

She released a soft whimper, clenching her pussy so nicely around his cock. “Not like that, I won’t.”

“Bitch,” he growled before pulling out of her completely. He swallowed her gasp of protest with a fiery kiss, then took himself in his hand and slid his cock along her soaked labia, his balls smacking her pussy. “Say it.”

“Spike!”

“Not gonna give you anythin’ until you say it.”

She scowled at him. “You’re an egomaniac.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I want you to say.”

Buffy tried to hold her glare on him but whimpered instead, conceding with a fervent nod and thrusting against him. “Yes, yes,” she agreed, nodding. “I’m yours. I’m so yours.”

The demon growled and demanded fangs. Spike fought off the instinct, soaking in her face. “Really?”

“Yes! Yours. Forever. Please, Spike, stop teasing me!”

“You’re not just sayin’ it?” he asked, voice trembling with need.

She released a long, tortured sob, sliding her own hand between them to cup her pussy. “Not just saying it. I love you, you ass. Now fuck me! Please!”

Spike smiled and caressed her mouth with his, grasping her wrist and pinning her hands to the mattress as he pushed his cock back inside her. “That’s all I wanted to hear, pet.”

She sighed in completion. “Oh, that’s better.”

“Mine,” he murmured, releasing her arms, which immediately wrapped around his neck as his mouth found hers. He kissed her without abandon, cupping her breasts again and pulling on her nipples. The intensity of his thrusts grew feral, the sound of their smacking flesh filling the otherwise still crypt. He’d known it would be magnificent between them, of course. He’d known that from the second he spotted her so many years ago, dancing at the Bronze. But god, he’d never known it could be like this.

He hadn’t known anything like this even existed.

“I love you,” he rasped against her lips. “I love you.”

“Yes!”

Spike abandoned one breast to his mouth and dipped a hand between them to tease her clit in earnest now. Her gasps scratched at the room, and suddenly she was coming. Pussy clenching his cock so tight he thought he might cry, the spasms rhythmic and endless.

_Fuck. I’m yours. _

“Buffy Buffy Buffy,” he babbled, his fangs exploding in his mouth. No holding them back this time. “Need…I need…”

She nodded. “It’s okay.”

“Buffy—”

“Do it.”

He sliced into her milky flesh, and he snarled into her as he spilled himself inside her, and fuck, this was worth it. The pain of losing her, the agony of every one of those one hundred and forty-six days. His mouth was tempted again with words that he refused to release, his mind racing as his hips crashed against hers, her blood flowing down his throat.

_Mine. Forever. For bloody ever. Never lettin’ you go._

“Oh god. Yes. Oh yes.”

A shiver seized him and something within locked. Reluctantly, Spike withdrew his fangs from her throat and licked the wound closed. He rested his brow against hers, panting as the world was returned to him. If he lived a thousand years, he would never get enough of the feel of her flesh wrapped around him. Never tire of the bliss from her kisses, or the way her eyes glowed when she was flush with orgasm. He kept trying to show her Heaven on earth, but like always, she was a step ahead of him. Because that was what this had to be.

He wanted her forever.

“Mine,” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she replied. “I told you.”

He smiled. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” She released a shaky breath, then touched the place on her throat. “Wait, you bit me.”

“Yeah.”

“Twice now.” Her eyes narrowed. “And no ouchie?”

“Think you oughta ask yourself the same question, pet,” he replied with a smirk. “Did it hurt when I bit you, Slayer? Or did you come harder than you’ve come in your bloody life?”

“Umm, that second thing.” A delicate blush spread across her cheeks. “But Spike, the chip… If it—”

“Wager it won’t last forever, love. It’ll be out one of these days.”

“And…when that happens…”

Spike stared at her for a moment. “When that happens, I’ll be able to properly sock any human pulsers who are out doin’ no bloody good, won’t I? That’s about the full of it.”

“Really?”

“Buffy, I told you once I’d rather die than see you in pain. You really think I don’t know what that means?”

At this, her expression softened. “No, I know what it means. But a girl’s gotta ask, you know.”

“A girl’s gotta trust.”

“A girl’s got reasons not to. Not you… Well, sometimes you, but also just general experience of her boyfriends going bad.”

“Already as bad as I’m ever gonna be, love. But if it makes you feel better…” He held up a hand. “I solemnly swear I won’t bite anyone who’s not begging me to do it—which’ll cross out everyone but you. Unless someone’s attackin’ the Bit or summat. My fangs will be used solely for making Buffy come like she’s never come before and keepin’ her and everyone she loves safe until I’m dust.” Spike sighed and glanced away. “Can’t promise to be perfect, love, but I’ll be my bloody best for you. I’ll never do anything aimin’ to hurt you. Might muck it up every here and then, but…”

“Spike, that’s all I need.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” Buffy wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, but…that part of me is something I can’t shut off. Like your fangs are something you can’t shut off. I believe you would never do anything to hurt me, but…I thought that once before and it was awful.” She pulled back and grinned at him. “So the fact that you have no soul to lose? Big ole bonus in the book of Buffy. It might just take me a while to really relax with that. Okay?”

Okay? Bloody okay? A giddy chuckle escaped his lips, and he kissed her spontaneously. “I never thought…” He broke off, shaking his head. “God, best bloody night of my life.”

Buffy smiled and ran her hands through his hair. “Mine, too,” she whispered. “I can’t…” And then to his astonishment, her face crumbled into tears. The ambiguity of female hormones. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t… If I’d come back and you were gone. I don’t think I could…”

“Shhh.” He brushed a tender kiss across her forehead, rolling them to their sides. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Won’t ever leave.”

“I know. I know.” She laughed shortly and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I didn’t mean to go all Hollywood Weepy Girl on you.”

“If anyone has an excuse…”

Buffy laughed again and shook her head. “I feel like I’ve gone forever without crying,” she said. “For a while, I thought I’d forgotten how. Some things…the normal things feel like I left them behind.”

“They’re all a part of bein’ human, love,” he told her gently. “There’s no bloody manual on how to recuperate after your friends rip you out of paradise.”

“There’s you.”

“Well, I’m taken. Any other birds whose friends are bloody idiots are outta luck.”

She flexed her muscles, squeezing his cock within her. “Damn right.”

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

“I want you to move in with me.”

Spike’s eyes went wide and he stared at her in astonishment. “What?”

Her cheeks pinked and she tore her gaze away. “I mean…if you want to, that is. Of course only if you want to. I know we just got together and you have a nice place already and it’s kinda against the vampire constitution to move above ground…but…I’d like you to move in with me. I feel more at home here than I do at home, but I don’t think it’d help my friends if I told them I was moving into the graveyard. Plus…kinda creepy. I don’t wanna be married to my work, you know?”

Her nervous rambling enchanted him. “Buffy,” he said softly before kissing her temple. “Is there any scenario runnin’ through that pretty head of yours in which I say no?”

“I just… Most guys would look for the nearest exit if the girl asked them to move in after just one night of hot monkey sex.”

“I’m not most blokes,” he growled. “I’m so in love with you it hurts, and if I can be near you…live in the same place—”

“But your crypt—”

“Sod the bloody crypt. It’s a mess and not worth keepin’.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Say we’re patrolling and I get very horny.”

“Best crypt in town, this is. Lovely place. Our weekend getaway, yeah?”

Buffy grinned. “I thought so.”

Spike smirked and kissed her. “What about the witches?”

“What about them? It’s my house, right? Says so in the deed that I had to sign after Mom died. So if they’re not gonna pay rent, they can find some other place to live.”

“You’re gorgeous when you’re authoritative.” He rolled onto his back, his cock slipping out of her. “Come to think of it,” he continued, grinning as she stretched across his chest. “You’re always gorgeous.”

Her cheeks reddened even further and she poked his side. “You’re a sap.”

“You love it.”

“I’m gonna make rent super cheap for Will and Tara. I’ll be the best landlord ever.”

“I have no doubt.”

“But we get the big bedroom. My house, my rules.”

Spike’s eyes danced. “You have no quarrel with me, baby.”

“Of course, getting up to tell them all this would require…well, getting up.” She poked out her bottom lip, casting her legs astride his waist. “Getting dressed.” Her small, skilled hand wrapped around his cock. “Get all…unnaked.”

“Bugger that,” he growled.

“You have a better plan?”

“Yeah.” He slid two fingers inside her, eyes blazing. “It’s called shag me silly.”

“Ohhhh.” Buffy licked her lips, her hips shifting over him so that he was positioned at her opening. “I like that plan.” They sighed together when she sank down, sliding his cock into her warm pussy again. The place where he belonged. “Though I do have to go home at some point. Have the talk. Make with the statement.”

“Some point,” Spike agreed with a long moan, taking her breasts into his hands as she began to ride him. “Not now.”

“Not now.” 

*~*~* 

All in all, it went better than she could have hoped.

There was a bit of yelling. Mostly from Xander. Then growling. Mostly from Spike. Then squealing. Mostly from Dawn. Then acceptance. Mostly from everyone. Though Buffy couldn’t help but be annoyed that Willow looked surprised when she talked about things like rent and helping out with household expenses. And yeah, she might have snapped and asked if the only reason they brought her back was to pay the mortgage, which might have been on the side of harsh but Buffy couldn’t find it within herself to care.

It wasn’t until Giles pulled her aside afterward, in full polish-mode, to tell her that while he didn’t approve of everything, he certainly approved of the way she’d handled the house. Then he’d gotten super quiet and asked if she was happy. If Spike truly made her happy.

Spike, who was across the room and very clearly listening to the conversation though trying to not be obvious, turned his gaze to the ceiling and scratched his chin as though in deep contemplation. This made Buffy want to laugh so hard she could barely keep it in to give her Watcher a straight answer.

“Giles, since I got back, he’s pretty much been the only thing that makes me happy.”

At this, Spike gave up the pretense and shot her one of those soft, warm smiles that made her wonder why it had taken her so long to fall in love with him in the first place.

“There’s more to your resurrection than you’re telling me,” Giles said. “Isn’t there?”

Buffy swallowed, looked around the room to make sure her vampire was the only eavesdropper, then nodded. “But they can’t know,” she said. “They can’t know what they did.”

“You weren’t in Hell.”

Her eyes stung and she shook her head.

“Oh Buffy.” Giles sighed and took her into a hug, and that felt good. “Then whatever makes you happy makes me happy. Even if he’s a right little wanker.”

She was glad he added that, because the rest had made an emotional outburst pretty much unavoidable. Buffy squeezed—an appropriate amount of force—and thanked him.

Later that night, as Spike closed the door to what was now their room—Tara had immediately moved everything out and helped launder fresh sheets—he gave her a sweet, shy grin.

“You sure this is really happening?” he asked, kicking off his shoes. “’Cause I’ve had a number of dreams that went like this. Didn’t feel this real, though, or last this long.”

“Pretty sure it’s happening,” Buffy replied, walking up to him, high on relief and gratitude and love. Ever since last night, the decision she’d made to follow what she wanted rather than what she knew was expected of her, she’d felt more like herself. It would take a while to work back to a place where she didn’t feel the pain of what she’d lost every day, but all of this was a terrific start.

“We just sleepin’, then?” Spike asked as she led him to the bed. “Tender ears down the hall and all.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “You want to just sleep?”

“No, I want to fuck you within an inch of your life, Slayer.”

“Being that this is our bedroom now, I think they’re gonna just have to get used to it.”

“Right.” He barked a laugh, turned his gaze to the ground, looking adorably sheepish. “Guess it just hasn’t set in is all. Might take a bit. I get you, I’m here, and I can shag you the way I like?”

“Well, I can try to be quiet.”

He smirked. “No bloody chance.”

“Challenge most certainly accepted.”

She lost, of course, but hey, worth it.


End file.
